Her name was Svetlana. She spoke with a thick Slavic accent and wore a pantsuit, which for some reason made me think that she looked like a banker. A Russian banker. Which didn’t predispose me to telling her my secrets, but still: I had promised myself that I would do this, that I would seek help, and this place, this tidy office with a worn leatherette sofa and wilting fern and shelves upon shelves of books on psychiatry and therapy and parenting, was where I had arrived. This woman, the occupant of this office, would help me.
So, she says, peering at the file in her hands, you vant harm your child?
Um… no… that’s not…
She frowns. Say here, you vant harm your child… you have violent thoughts…
No, no, that’s not exactly right… I just…
Is chicken scratch. I cannot to read. You look, tell me vat it say. She hands me the file with my psychiatric referral.
Um… I squint at the inky scrawl “…reports intrusive thoughts of harming baby… reports wanting to drop baby on bed, escape home, reports experiencing feelings as violent, aggressive… denies intent to harm… denies intent to harm self… denies suicidal ideation… reports being afraid of intrusive thoughts.” I cringe. I’d rather not be reading this. “Sleep deprivation. Previous treatment for anxiety. Supportive husband.” I hand the file back to her. I didn’t say that I felt violent. I said that the feeling itself was violent. Like a shock. It frightened me.
Is frightening, yes, these thoughts. She looks me in the eye. I know you do not vant harm baby.
Which is as good a basis for a therapeutic relationship as any, I suppose. I could, I decided in that instant, overlook the pantsuit. I could work with this woman.
We spoke at length, Svetlana and I. Or rather, she spoke, and asked the occasional question, which suited me. I hate psychiatric therapy, I hate feeling that I’m being analyzed. I hate listening to the sound of my own voice droning on and on about can’t sleep motherhood hard feel anxious yes family history of depression no not suicidal just TIRED TIRED OH SO TIRED. I just want a solution. I just wanted her to give me a solution.
And Svetlana was all about the solutions. First, we get you to sleep, no? I give you Ativan; you sleep when baby sleep. Zen, we test blood: thyroid, B12, glucose… your body, I zink, it is PFFT!… zen we meet again; we talk… is good to talk… zen maybe, maybe I give you somezing for depression. Not now. Now, you are tired. You are post-traumatic stress. You need sleep and peas. She leans forward and grabs my hand. Sleep and peas.
I had to think about that for a second.
Yes, I say, finally. Peace would be nice.
Peas is nice, she says. I help you to get peas. She drops her voice to a whisper. I tell you somezing. You are not bad mother. You are good mother. She pats my hand. Not to forget.
No, I say. Not to forget. Thank you.
Peas is good. Today, I will fill the prescription for Ativan and will go to bed early with that little bottle of peas while the husband takes the baby and leaves me in the sweet, sweet quiet dark. With my peas. With my peace. So that I will rest, so that tomorrow will dawn brighter, so that I’ll move a step or two closer to feeling like the good mother that I know I am.
Note to you all, who do so much to sustain me: if you have e-mailed me in the last month or so and have not had a response from me, please forgive – I am completely overwhelmed and doing the best I can. I read everything. I respond as best I can, but that hasn’t been enough to keep control of my inbox. Please know that I so appreciate the support and the contact. I really, really do.
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(((LOVE)))
Went through the same cycle. Came out stronger in the end. You will too.
(((MORE LOVE)))
So, so, so hard. Many hugs to you. You will come out the other side.
Ah mama. You are telling my story after baby number two.
You will be stronger at the other end, and? There really is another end. It just takes a while to get there.
good good good good. rest and peas to you.
Sleep tight Catherine and pleasant dreams.
Oh my goodness, only you would get Natasha (as in, Bullwinkle) for a therapist… I know it’s not funny, but peas? I chuckled…
I hope you get lots and lots of peas. Bushels, even.
Hugs to you,
Amy
I will send peas-ful thoughts your way!
Once people start genuinely asking *WHERE* intrusive thoughts intrude *FROM* – well, then shit gets really interesting (if you ask me).
I mean – it’s obviously from beyond your ego, right? Because you, your ego, Catherine as such, doesn’t want to hurt the baby.
So what does? And if we start feeling around “beyond” the ego, what’s the possibility of this Other being outside your body (and so IN-TRUDING with the thoughts)?
You’re fucking trippy!
Please hire someone to hold the baby for a few hours a day so you can sleep. Get a line of credit to pay for it if you have to, go into debt, you can pay it back later. You must sleep.
It is only the Western world where women must single-handedly care for young children. In “less developed” countries families of women live together to hold new babies while tired new mommies sleep. It is the only way the species has survivied.
Imagine Whirled Peas is my favorite ice cream – ice cream is good – you’ll be just fine.
*sending good thoughts*
I’ve been following along. I hope you sleep. And that you feel so much better when you wake up. Sweet dreams.
Oh, C.
I am heart-burstingly full of hope for you – that this is quick, and relatively painless, and…..
good-night, sweet lady.
Good for you for looking for help. I too went on Ativan after my daughter was born. It was the best decision I could have made, for my health and hers.
Hubby used to tell me “what your baby needs most is a well rested mother”. It’s amazing what proper sleep can do for you.
Wishing you rest and peas.
Ativan is kind of weird for sleep in that it is an anti-anxiety med, and it works differently than a sleeping pill, but I think the added bonus is that you will have anti-anxiety meds in your blood stream which should help you feel calmer. Nighty night, sweet dreams!
Good for you. I hope you get some much needed rest.
BHJ – that’s such an interesting and entirely trippy question. Do the thoughts INTRUDE from the outside? Do they come from some outer place, some OTHER, as you say? Only, I suppose, if we imagine that we DO have Mr. Hyde-like shadow selves that trail us in the darkness.
The trippy thing is – they probably aren’t intrusive, but extrusive – bursting out from our darker inner places (you might say id; I might say – Socratically, because that’s how I roll – from the appetitive, erotic part of our soul, the part that is most concerned with selfish self-preservation – if baby keeps me from sustaining myself, why should my impulse NOT be to thrust him away?) That these thoughts might be part of us is disturbing, but maybe it’s healthy to take ownership? To admit that in our weakest moments we get desperately, almost dangerously selfish?
Aaaaah… where’s that Ativan at, again?
Its good to be funny in the midst of it all. Always a good sign if you can laugh at least a little.
I like that woman. Sleep and peas, she makes complete sense. Wishing you sleep lots of peas really soon.
Extrusive makes a hell of a lot of sense. Also, you know I’ve always said give peas a chance.
she sounds like a good one: yes, you need sleep, and peace. yes, you are a good mother. enjoy the dark and quiet. hugs to you and yours …
You know that I know of what you speak. Svetlana seems like she gets it too.
Much love to you.
Love, hugs, sleep and peas to you. I am glad you found someone like svetlana. You are a good mother.
I remember once when my second child was a young baby and I thought I lost her. I was frantically looking through the house for her. And the whole time? I was holding her in my arms. Scary shit.
Sleep deprivation is no joke.
I love Svetlana for you.
You are a good mother. But a tired one.
Svetlana just rocks – I’m so happy it went well. Good for you for going . . . many women don’t do it. Sleep makes the entire world a different place – so I hope you get some. And peas too.
Enjoy the quiet night tonight. If you and hubby haven’t been using them already, try a set of earplugs. They greatly increase the restfulness of whatever sleep you might be able to get.
Again, thanks for blogging so honestly about “this” . . . it helps so much to stop PPD and the spectrum of stuff associated with it from being this dirty secret that no one talks about or is somehow dimished for admitting to. You are brave and incredible for doing this – really. I hope you will write about your experience with Ativan as I think many of us use a sleep aid, but don’t know how it works come “wake up” time and so on. I know the truth stops here so look forward to your reviews!
Struck by how brave you are to share this, and hoping you know we all have those moments..
sending you big warm hugs from new england!
This post was so funny and vulnerable and clever – and then so tear-jerkingly moving. I think Svetlana will do. I like her.
Sleep and peas.
Spot on.
And many, many hugs and you hearing the message that you ARE a good mother. A GREAT mother. And hopefully, after a little sleep and peas, you’ll remember that, too.
Oh my gosh, that woman sounds so wonderful! She knows you are a good mother in just the first meeting. And she knows you need rest before anything else.
Good for you for knowing you needed a helping hand and advice. Enjoy your sleep and peas. Any possibility a trusted friend or hired nanny could continue to help with childcare so you can get some peas daily? I remember what just a nap would do for me when I was so very sleep deprived and caring for 2 little ones. continue to take care and thank you for sharing with all of us…
Sounds like a good start. I know you’ll be ok.
I hope you get your peace; this seems like a good step in that direction.
I sought therapy once and my therapist turned out to be the daughter-in-law of Ronald Reagan.
Sending lots of positive energy and sweet, sweet, dreams
She sounds vondervul. Peas to you.
What a beautifully written account of your appointment.
Ditto everyone’s comments about the Russian sounding like a good egg and you getting peas and sleep.
I don’t know how the health care thing goes up there or if it is as expensive as is it here in the South. But my offer still stands, about bitching to each other and calling it even. We won’t even have to leave the house or get dressed! And I have bottles of whatever you need, no charge, no pharmacy lines
. One way or another you will get the rest you so dearly need! 
Totally trying not to incriminate myself…
Anyway, I am SO glad you got in and got some answers. Hopefully your world will be right as rain ASAP! My Dr, however, is STILL giving me the run around. I was to start my meds this afternon in their office and then attend group therapy meeting right after. 5 oclock traffic and 4 pharmacies later, NO ONE had the meds he wrote so I came home and dropped it off at MY pharmacy on the other side of town and will *HOPEFULLY* have it in hand tomorrow and start Saturday. Sorry for all that boring personal TMI , I just needed to get it out and the hubs is all blank when I try to talk to him about it…
ONeal – It’s Canada. Healthcare is universal. So I only pay for my prescriptions. For this? I am grateful.
But you’re welcome to whatever bitching you’d like. You know where I am
I am actually crying right now. I have been there, exactly there, although her name was Adair. And I take my Prozac and Ativan every day. Last night was hard, I felt so angry at my daughter for not wanting to go to sleep, not wanting cow’s milk instead of her usual soy milk, at my husband for leaving the damned soy milk in the car that he then took to work!!! And it is such an ugly feeling, that anger. And I know it’s not her fault and that I should be a good mommy and not hurt her feelings with my anger… but sometimes I am only human. And so are you, Catherine.
Much love.
We are all behind you. You will find yourself again through all of this.
She sounds great – get the sleep and self care stuff sorted out first; THEN, do other stuffs if needed.
Sweet, sweet dreams…
Bless her, bless her, bless her. And the ativan. And the sleep.
My doctor said she wouldn’t have any patients at all if everyone drank enough water and got enough sleep. She’s slightly overstating it, but not by much.
Love to you. xoxo
{{{HBM}}} who is SO not a BM. I wish pecks and pecks of peas upon your house.
If you get a few extra pecks could you pass them down my way though?
Well I am glad that you are going to give peas a try. Lots of hugs! xoxo!!
And even here you write so beautifully and so honestly. Wishing you peas as you move through this valley.
((HUGS))
Wishing you sleep and peas.
Oh, if your husband is on the night shift you might want him to get you up briefly at some point to pump. Say, after he’s taken care of the baby already so you are not too awake or tempted to nurse him, thus loosing sleep.
Not for the baby, I’m sure you have stock in the fridge for him, but for your poor boobies. Waking from a blissful sleep b/c your tits are bursting is so not the best wake-up you could wish for.
If your husband is really up for it you could show him how to pump you himself. You know, so you don’t have to be conscious at all, if the meds work really well that is. You could even call it research for PETA.
frickin’ weird suggestion, I know, but it could work and allow you a few extra hours (45 min?) of sleep.
Her bad mother is not a good name for this blog…
You are an AMAZING mother…..
Cheers to Svetlana, ativan and sleep…
She’s right … you are a great mother. Sleep and peas is what I wish for you dear Catherine.
xo
I often think that asking for help is the hardest thing to do.
Why is that, when we are so willing to try and help others?
Sweet dreams.
Am I the only person that thinks that occasional `crazy` thoughts are normal? My goodness- you`re sleep deprived, seemingly still working your butt off and, oh yeah, you`ve just sacrificed your body to another human being who doesn`t understand what you`re doing for him and as such will not try one bit to make your life any easier. It upsets me that moments such as the one you experienced make you and other mothers feel like there might be something wrong with you. I`m happy for you that you`re strong enough to know to get help when you feel that you need it, but I certainly hope that you know that it doesn`t mean that you`re becoming a `monster` and you shouldn`t feel any shame for the frustration you`re experiencing. I know well that feeling of anger. I thought that I was a terrible mother and a terrible person when my daughter was the same age. Only after coming out of the dark of depression did I realise that the problem wasn`t me- it was the situation. You`re doing a fabulous job- I`m sure of it. Give yourself credit and take all the time to sleep that you can- you deserve it.
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